


Beach Blanket Werewolf

by pollitt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Teen Wolf Reverse Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 20:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles will figure it out. He always does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beach Blanket Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TW Reverse Bang, inspired by the beautiful artwork by [buffaluffalo](http://buffaluffalo.tumblr.com/) ([prompt piece](http://i.imgur.com/PItld.jpg). Link to finished work TK.) 
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful betas, Maverick and Data, for being the rock stars they are.

The first thing that comes to Stiles’s mind as he pulls up to the edge of the parking area and spies the very beautiful, and very empty stretch of beach is that he both does and doesn’t want to know what Derek had to do to secure a private beach. 

“Is my dad going to be getting phone calls about a horror at West Beach today?” He says, looking over at Derek. “Please tell me you didn’t show up with a dead bunny in your maw while families ran away screaming. Am I going to have nightmares about Mr. Floppy torn asunder?” 

“The hell? You watched that movie after I fell asleep last night, didn’t you?” Derek asks, and Stiles knows he’s caught. 

In his defense, what else was he supposed to do when the movie they had been watching ended and Stiles found himself with a starring role as Derek’s human pillow and was pinned--not uncomfortably, but still pinned--under Derek with the remote just out of arm’s reach. 

“Yes. Okay, so maybe my imagery was a bit dramatic, but seriously, how did you score this? Why isn’t this place packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people?” 

Derek looks out the windshield and toward the empty beach, a toothy grin starting to spread. 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Stiles opens up his door. “Keep your little secret there wolfman. I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course you will.” 

Stiles makes a face and gets out of the Jeep. 

It doesn’t take long to unpack the back of the Jeep -- Stiles grabs the food and blankets, while Derek carries the umbrella and grill -- and they start to set up the space before the rest of the pack arrives. 

“I got in.” Stiles says when he means to say “Please tell me you brought the veggie burgers because, remember, Lydia is currently on a no-meat diet.”

“What?” Derek looks over at him in reply to his non-sequitur. 

“MIT. I’m in. The letter arrived just before I left to pick you up.” Stiles feels like he should be excited, should be throwing his arms up in victory because _score_ early acceptance means that’s one less thing looming over his shoulder, ready to pounce. Only he’s feeling kind of like he’d rather face whatever the bestiary wants to throw at him, because the future... that’s one terrifying creature. 

“Holy crap.” He has to put his hands on his thighs and lean over for a second as the reality really hits him. “College.” 

Derek’s hand is warm on his back, and Stiles is dimly aware Derek saying his name. The third “Stiles” really sinks in, and Stiles can even hear the exclamation point. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m fine.” Stiles straightens up and takes a deep breath, feeling the initial rush of panic subsiding and the building of excitement taking its place. “I did it.”

“You did.” Derek's smile is wide, proud, and just the thing Stiles wants to be kissing right now. And so he does. 

Derek's fingers slide into the back of Stiles's hair, pulling Stiles closer as he deepens their kiss. Stiles spares a thought to when everyone might be arriving, but that idea falls by the wayside when Derek's other hand reaches down and presses into the small of Stiles's back. Plus, Stiles figures, Derek will be able to hear people approaching.

Which is exactly what happens a couple of minutes later as Derek pulls back just before Stiles hears the crunch of gravel from an arriving car.

“Break it up you two, company’s here,” Allison says, leaning out of the window of Lydia’s car. 

“Spoilsport,” Stiles calls back.

He’s completely unprepared for the kiss Derek presses against the side of his neck, and it _tickles_. Stiles squirms and yells, turning toward Derek, who catches him in a loose cage of his arms. “Don’t worry about the college thing, okay?”

“You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you? You are so not being sly at all.” 

Derek raises an eyebrow, which sometimes has a language all of its own, and Stiles reads the ‘are you complaining?’ loud and clear. 

“By all means continue,” Stiles finishes and gives Derek a quick kiss.

“So this is your definition of ‘setting up’ our beach space,” Scott says as he, Allison and Lydia join them on the beach. "Making out until people arrive."

“Hey, we started," Stiles says, moving out of Derek’s embrace, "we just got distracted.”

"By starting something else," Scott finishes with a grin. He lifts up the box in his hands and Stiles sees the familiar cheesy picture of a couple playing a game of volleyball.

"You remembered, great. Lydia, you can help Allison set up the volleyball net while Scott--"

“What’s the point of showing up fashionably late if you have to help set up?” Lydia asks, dropping her beach bag by the picnic table. 

Allison rolls her eyes and turns to Scott. “Why don’t you help Stiles with the food, Scott can help me. Right, Scott?”

“Me? Of course.” Scott’s cheeks go pink, and Stiles has to swallow back a laugh when Scott follows Allison down towards the water like a puppy.

“Derek, why don’t you go up and get the rest of the chairs out of the trunk.” Lydia holds out her keys and looks over the top of her sunglasses, daring him to disobey. 

Derek grabs the keys, sliding his hand over Stiles’s back before he walks toward the cars. 

“Okay, spill.” Lydia says, turning her attention back to him. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Me and Derek? Last time I checked, it was called dating.”

“Don’t play coy with me. Derek may no longer be Mr. Lurking in the Shadows, but he’s never been Mr. Touchy-Feely in public.”

“It’s a big day,” Stiles says, indeed playing coy. “Big news.”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Lydia asks, poking her manicured fingernail right into Stiles’s chest at the breastbone. He's had run-ins with myriad creatures claws that have hurt less, but he's not going to mention that.

“What do you do, file those into points?” He asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“Stiles.” It’s short, sharp, and the unspoken demand for an answer is clear.

“Ms. Martin, you know I don’t divulge the details of my sex life.”

“Okay, first, yes you do. Second, that’s not the _it_ I was talking about.” She raises a finger again but her nail doesn’t make contact. The threat works, though. “And lastly, I know exactly when you had _it_.”

“God, who was it? Scott? No, don’t tell me. It was Erica, wasn't it. It had to be. Sometimes I really hate werewolf senses.“ Because while Lydia isn’t wrong, that he has kissed and told a couple of times, it’s not like he sent out a status update of virgin no longer.

“Oh please, no one had to tell me. Even without the super scenters, I would have known. You wore a stupid grin on your face for days. You were all but wagging your tail, and, yes, I know what that sounded like. If that wasn’t the reason then I would’ve been worried for your sanity.” The bite’s out of Lydia’s voice now and she looks serious, and curious. “Did you get in?”

“I did.” And okay, maybe he does have a stupid grin and he can feel it breaking across his face.

Lydia squeals and leaps up into his arms, Stiles knows his smile just gets bigger and stupider, because he will probably always have a little bit of a crush on her and she was one of the few people he’d told about applying for early decision. 

“I told you not to worry,” she says when he finally sets her down, and there might be a tear or two in her eyes. “Does Scott know? What about your dad and Derek?”

“I haven’t told Scott I got accepted yet. I quite literally got the letter when I was heading out the door.” Stiles looks over at Scott, who’s working on setting up a volleyball net with Allison while attempting to flirt at the same time. He’s only half successful at the multi-tasking. Allison helps him untangle himself from the net and pushes back his hair when it falls into his face. “And I left a message for my dad. So far it’s only you and Derek who know.”

“Congratulations.” 

“Thanks, Lydia.” 

Derek comes back from Lydia’s car with four beach chairs in his hands, and Boyd, Erica and Isaac in tow. Stiles has a flashback to the early days of Derek and his baby beta pack. It feels like so long ago.

“We have a whole beach to ourselves and yet I don’t see any towels on the sand and no one is in the water,” Erica says, looking down at the lake. 

“Looks like we’re just going to have to fix that.” Boyd grabs her hand and they run down and straight into the water with a yell.

“Who’s that with Danny?” Allison asks, tossing the volleyball net box under the picnic table.

Stiles follows her gaze and he can see Danny’s car, and as the trunk closes, he can see Danny. 

“Did he start seeing someone new?” Her voice gets higher pitched with excitement even as the volume drops, almost in a conspiratorial whisper. “Does he have a new boyfriend?”

“I don’t think so.” Lydia rises up on her toes. “Whoever it is needs to turn around and --”

“He’s heading our way,” Allison says.

Stiles holds his hands up to shade his eyes and try and make out who Allison’s asking about. 

“That’s not a boyfriend,” Isaac says. “That’s a Jackson.”

And sure enough, it only takes a couple more steps before Jackson’s face becomes easily recognizable. 

Stiles doesn’t even have time to look to his side, he just feels the air shift as Lydia takes off in a run toward Jackson.

Jackson sees her and stops, offering a solid target as she jumps up into his arms. 

“Wow, for once I actually got something from Lydia before Jackson did. I have to mark this in the record books,” Stiles says, and Scott, who has joined the group, snorts a laugh. 

“If it isn’t our world traveler,” Allison says when Danny, Jackson and Lydia get closer. “When did you get back into town?” 

“And where’d you fly in from? Last time we’d heard you were in Australia,” Scott adds.

“Geography will just never be your thing, will it McCall,” Jackson says with a smirk. “I was in Austria. More Alps, less kangaroos.”

“Austria, Australia, it’s good to see you.” Scott gives Jackson a hug. 

“What is this, I leave for year and suddenly everyone goes warm and fuzzy on me?” Jackson asks, which earns him a smack on the arm from Allison, who is next in line to give him a hug. “Danny didn’t even hug me when he saw me. And I’m his best friend.”

“Do you want me to hug you?” Danny asks.

“Everyone else is.” This time it’s Lydia who smacks him in the arm.

“I’ll take a pass,” Isaac says, reaching out and shaking Jackson’s hand. “But it’s good to see you, Jackson.” 

“I’m not hugging you,” Derek says, standing at Stiles’s side again.

“Of course not, we wouldn’t want your boyfriend to get jealous,” Jackson says, looking at the two of them. “Danny mentioned you two idiots finally figured out what we all knew. There was only so many times you could ask Danny if he thought you were attractive before you figured out the right person to ask.”

“Watch out Jackson, if you keep saying those nice things I might just have to hug you after all.” Stiles opens up his arms, but when Jackson doesn’t move, he laughs and offers his hand. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks,” Jackson says, a genuine smile on his face. 

“Okay, enough standing around. Jackson, will you help me with my sunscreen?” Lydia asks, slipping her arm through Jackson’s. “And don’t even think about rolling your eyes.”

“Lead the way.” Jackson says and allows himself to be lead down onto the beach. 

“So are you guys as good at volleyball as you are at lacrosse?” Allison asks, looking at Scott, Isaac and Danny. “Care for a little two-on-two?”

The guys all nod in agreement and they head down toward the volleyball net, leaving Derek and Stiles alone by the picnic bench. 

“Lydia is right, we have the place to ourselves, we should take advantage of having space to stretch out on the sand.” Stiles grabs one of the towels from the bench and he turns just in time to see Derek grab the hem of his shirt and pull it off over his head. “And wow why didn’t I ask you to do that earlier?”

Derek just grins and reaches for the bottom of Stiles’s shirt. “Your turn,” he says, pulling Stiles’s shirt upward.

Stiles pulls his shirt the rest of the way off, and he doesn’t miss the look Derek gives him before he puts on his sunglasses. It makes Stiles wish it was just the two of them.

“Later,” Derek says, grabbing the beach towel from Stiles’s hands.

They spread out the towel and stretch out onto it, sitting comfortably next to one another and watching their friends. 

“What if I’m making the wrong choice?” Stiles says, unable to stop himself. He keeps his eyes focused on the volleyball game and doesn’t look over at Derek. He needs to say it. “Like what if Stanford is where my evil genius can truly be cultivated. Or Caltech. Or the University of New Haven? The guy at the college thing said New Haven has a really good lacrosse team. And I bet it’s werewolf-free, so I might actually have a chance to play.”

“You also said that the New Haven guy told you that you should major in finance and then he flashed you his Gucci wallet. That right there are two reasons why you should stay as far away from there as possible.”

Of course, after a comment like that, Stiles gives in, he grins and maneuvers so he can stretch out against Derek until his head is pillowed on Derek’s thigh and he can look up at him. Upside down. “Has anyone ever told you that jealousy looks really good on you?” 

Derek doesn’t answer, but he curls his hand over Stiles’s shoulder, his forearm crossing Stiles’s chest. It’s as good as a neon sign that flashes the words “He’s mine” or “If found, please return to Derek Hale.” 

Stiles wonders how far that extension cord can travel, or if the neon will be bright enough when they’re thousands of miles apart. 

“You are aware how far away MIT is, right?” 

“You mean that big place we went to together with all those brick buildings and students and professors?” Derek says, and if his voice could roll its eyes, it would be doing so. Stiles knows that behind the killer aviators, Derek’s eyes are doing just that.

“Fine. Fine, point taken.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s hand spreads flat on Stiles’s chest and it’s been _months_ , but that still gives Stiles goosebumps.

“Derek.”

“Can we put a hold on the freaking out until we’re somewhere with walls and a floor you can pace, and not out on a gorgeous day with friends--over half of whom have really good hearing, if you don’t remember.

Derek’s thumb is moving back and forth over Stiles’s breastbone, right where Lydia had targeted earlier, and Stiles shuts his eyes, focuses on that calming touch and he can _do_ this. College is a year away. They have a year to figure this out.

“Stop thinking.” Derek’s breath tickles Stiles’s lips, just before he feels Derek’s mouth brush against his. 

“That’s usually my line. When did we switch--” Derek nips at Stiles’s bottom lip and Stiles shuts up. He can feel the movement of Derek’s smile against his lips in victory, and Stiles takes that opportunity to curve his hand around the back of Derek’s neck, holding him in place to get the most out of the kiss.

Someone lets out a howl and a whistle in their direction and Boyd calls out their names.

“It’s time to stop kissing and start fighting,” Boyd says. 

Stiles lets his hand drop and Derek straightens up to hear the challenge. 

Boyd lifts his finger and points at Derek. “I challenge you, Derek, and you, Stiles,” he moves his finger to Stiles’s location, “to a chicken fight.” 

Derek’s smile is all teeth. 

Stiles feels Derek’s hands slide underneath his shoulders and push him into a sitting position, and he knows he should really be used to werewolf reflexes and speed, but Stiles’s head still spins a little when Derek has them both on their feet in less than the next blink of an eye. 

“You’re on,” Derek says, grabbing Stiles’s hand. 

Stiles looks around at his friends, looks over at Derek, and oh yeah, they are _so_ figuring all of this out.

“Boyd, Erica, you guys are going _down_ ,” Stiles says, as they head toward the water.

ooooo

It’s not until later that night, when they’ve turned the grill into a makeshift fire pit and the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers come out, that Stiles fulfills his promise.

“So, my dad wants to know how the training is going here at the beach,” Stiles says pocketing his cell phone and sitting down on the sand next to Derek.

Derek is good, and he doesn’t betray any emotion, but Stiles doesn’t miss the quick glance that he gives him. “He assured the park district that the beach would be open again tomorrow, and it would be none the worse for wear. He was curious what kind of training he was taking part in today, and I told him I’d find out, but that whatever it was it was a success.”

“I’d say that it was.” Derek slides his arm around Stiles’s shoulder and Stiles leans in against his side. 

“I told you I’d figure it out.”

“I have no doubt you’ll figure it all out. You always do.” 

Derek was right, he would figure it all out. It would take more than distance to break this bond they had all formed.

**Author's Note:**

> “Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.” -- _A Game of Thrones_
> 
>    
> Early admission/action letters arrive in December, but for the sake of the story I’m playing a little fast(er) and loose(r) with timing.


End file.
